


The Fading of the Sea

by AwashSquid



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Death, F/F, Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 08:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10738023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwashSquid/pseuds/AwashSquid
Summary: Michiru is dying.





	The Fading of the Sea

It was easy for Michiru to push aside the blinding headaches. Easy, until she collapsed at a rehearsal for her upcoming concert series.

The public was told that she had contracted the flu and would need time to recover. The tour was indefinitely postponed, careful wording that was specifically selected by Michiru so as not to raise suspicions. Doctors and specialists were paid extra to sign confidentiality wavers, to keep the truth secret. Michiru didn’t want anyone else to know that she was dying.

She supposed she should have suspected earlier, should have seen a doctor preemptively to attempt to thwart the slow collapse of her body, but she knew that no amount of time wasted in waiting rooms would change her diagnosis. Every time she had looked into the Mirror for months, her future had been black. There was nothing to be done, then, but contain the damage.

Haruka couldn’t know. That was priority. Michiru couldn’t bear the thought of watching her lover’s smile fall, or deal with being treated like a fragile invalid as she wasted away, smothered under Haruka’s misguided attempts at nursing (the woman could give Minako a run for her money in the “means well but makes it worse” category of home health care). Michiru had always known herself to be selfish, manipulative, equally as charming and as unflinchingly cruel as the sea. And so she allowed herself to lie, to lure Haruka in with gentle waves, taking care not to think of what would happen when the sea turned stormy.

If Haruka asked why she wasn’t hungry, Michiru would lie about a big lunch and then turn the subject to Haruka’s newest racing rival—effectively taking up the rest of dinnertime conversation, and often hours afterwards. When Haruka inquired about her increased fatigue, Michiru would tease with remarks about how hard it is to sleep through a certain someone’s snoring, knowing that Haruka’s indignant responses would change the topic. When this tactic grew stale, Michiru would gaze at Haruka with smoldering eyes and say that she was just eager to get back to bed.

The days passed in a blur like a dream for Michiru, growing foggier and flimsier the more she relied on hidden stashes of pain medication to continue a semblance of normality. She took to sleeping most of the day, lying about painting in her studio or long violin practices when asked, forcing normality for a few hours in the evening, and then retiring early.

It was during one of Michiru’s afternoon naps when she was awoken by an incredibly loud knock, impatient and demanding. Michiru groaned and yelled sleepily for the knocker to come back later. A heated shout called back, “I will burn down this door if you don’t open it in five minutes!”

Michiru winced. “That door is a restored custom-built solid cypress, original to the house,” she muttered to herself, rising gingerly from the bed. She popped one of her pain pills and swallowed it dry, now accustomed to doing so, put her feet into her slippers, and began to shuffle out to the hallway, wrapping a blanket around herself as she moved. Michiru shuffled downstairs slowly, partly to test her impatient guest, partly because she was taking great care not to slip on the polished hardwood stairs.

Finally, she reached the front door and unlocked it to find a red-faced Rei Hino tapping her foot angrily against the porch, back turned to the door. Michiru could almost see steam rising off of Rei’s head but chalked this up to her pain medication kicking in. She cleared her throat slightly, and Rei whipped around, mouth already open for a fiery remark. “That was eight minutes. I should have burned down the door,” she snapped, with a little less anger than usual. Rei stepped past Michiru into the hallway with none of her usual haste, her indignation at being kept waiting dissipating. “I’ll make some tea,” she called over her shoulder, already heading to the kitchen.

Michiru nodded belatedly, realizing a moment too late that Rei was already gone, closed the door, and walked haltingly to the living room. She collapsed on to the sofa, no longer having the energy to move with her usual grace. Rei entered shortly after, two cups of tea in her hands, and offered one to Michiru, who accepted cautiously, not wanting to spill the boiling hot drink. (Rei preferred her tea scalding, mainly so the woman could show off her burn resistance, Michiru suspected.)

Rei settled into the opposite armchair and they sat in silence for a few minutes, Rei sipping her tea, Michiru staring into her own steaming tea cup blankly. During this pause, Rei studied Michiru carefully—her hair looked lush and wavy, but Rei could see where the ends tangled together, not having been brushed. Her flawless face was thinner than before, with dark shadows underneath her eyes, eyes which were tired, eyes that looked centuries old.

“You’re lucky your wife is about as observant as a rock,” Rei blurted out, shattering the quiet.

Michiru smiled. “I suppose I am. You must be used to it as well, being so _close_ to Usagi.” She knew she was baiting Rei, and she knew it probably wouldn’t work, but she couldn’t resist seeing the woman’s face turn an incredible shade of red.

Exhaling heavily to ignore the implications of Michiru’s claim, Rei sat her empty cup on the coffee table that separated them. “I think you should tell her.” Purple eyes met aqua ones, and for the first time Rei could remember, Michiru looked away first.

“It’s not your decision.” Michiru gingerly took a sip of tea, then looked back up at Rei. “And if you value the last wishes of a dying woman, you won’t tell anyone.” This time, Rei broke eye contact first, causing Michiru to smile slightly as she took another sip of her tea.

“How long have you known?” Rei asked, almost gently, of Michiru.

“Longer than you, apparently,” she muttered acidly in response, not wanting the shrine maiden’s pity. Michiru felt a little guilty as she noticed Rei blush, angry at herself for not paying closer attention. Michiru sighed and put down her cup, still half-full. “What does it matter how long I’ve known? It doesn’t change anything.”

“But it could have!” Rei shouted, no longer holding back her emotions. She pounded her fist onto the coffee table, making the cups quiver in their saucers. “We could have done something! We could have—”

“What, asked Usagi to use the Crystal? Asked her to die for me? We both know we are disposable, Mars,” she replied, acid filling her tone, “But the Princess has to live.” Michiru laughed bitterly. “ _She_ has to have a _future_.”

Rei’s mouth hung open, too shocked to reply. Never before had she seen Michiru so angry, so hateful, so _raw_. She suspected no one else had witnessed her like this either, and Rei wasn’t sure if she should feel honored or repulsed by the other woman’s bitterness.

Michiru pulled her blanket closer, trying to wrap herself in its warmth, in its scent. She was surprised to find that she was blinking back tears. “I think it’s time for you to leave, Rei,” she intoned as flatly as she could manage, sinking back into the couch and closing her eyes, willing herself not to show any further weakness.

Rei, unseen, opened her mouth to reply, but closed it again when she realized that, for once, she didn’t know what to say. She picked up the cups and returned them to the kitchen, wiping tears from her eyes before she turned around to face the living room again. Rei had expected Michiru to be asleep, and was startled to see her awake, standing, and staring at her intently.

“Watch her for me,” Michiru asked softly, halfway between an order and a plea.

Rei nodded solemnly. “I promise.” Michiru relaxed slightly at this, her eyes losing some of their hardness, her shoulders sagging back down.

“Thank you,” she said, her tone warm and caring as it only was when talking about Haruka. She turned away and began to walk back upstairs, knowing that she needed to get ready for when Haruka returned. As she ascended the stairs, she heard the door shut, signaling Rei’s departure. She wasn’t happy that she had lost her composure in front of Rei, but truth be told, she knew that Rei was the least likely to hold it against her. She knew Rei would keep her secrets—as temperamental as the shrine maiden could be, her loyalty was fierce and unmovable.

Michiru drew herself a bath and combed out her hair carefully. After a long soak, she applied a light layer of concealer under her eyes to hide their shadows. She could do nothing to disguise her thin frame, but wearing some of Haruka’s favorite clothing items certainly helped to distract from the issue.

The evening passed uneventfully. Setsuna had made Michiru’s favorite meal, giving her a knowing look as it was placed on the table. She ate as much as she was able and thanked Setsuna warmly. The rest of the night passed in a blur of tangled bedsheets and feverish kisses. If Haruka noticed Michiru’s increased passion, she didn’t complain, but reciprocated in kind.

Michiru watched Haruka fall asleep. She looked so peaceful this way, expression slack, hair tousled. Michiru smiled a little as she watched Haruka begin to drool, a habit she normally found disgusting but almost seemed endearing now that she recognized this was the last time she would be seeing it.

Hours passed of Michiru watching Haruka breathe, holding her and being held. As the morning light began to filter into the bedroom, she knew that it was time to leave. She carefully extricated herself from Haruka’s embrace and kissed her lightly on the forehead, earning a sleepy smile from the blonde. Michiru pulled on her favorite dress and plucked a letter from her vanity. She had written the letter when she first found out, not trusting herself to be able to do so when the time came. It was full of loving phrases and thanks for a life well lived, all written in her slanting cursive and sealed shut. She placed the letter on her pillow, gave Haruka one last longing glance, and then walked out of the bedroom.

Michiru wasn’t entirely surprised to see Setsuna sitting in the chair by their front door, a cup of tea in hand. She said nothing to her, but nothing truly needed to be said between them, their relationship established strongly on comfortable silences. Michiru nodded at her and smiled as she began to unlock the door. Setsuna opened her mouth as if to say something, but seemed to think better of it and settled for taking a sip of her drink instead. As Michiru struggled with the door lock—damn her shaking hands—she felt a hand placed on her shoulder. She looked up into warm burgundy eyes. “I’ll take care of her,” Setsuna said, almost in a whisper. 

Michiru smiled and placed her hand on top of the other woman’s, feeling its warmth. “I know.” They parted, Setsuna resuming her seat, Michiru walking out the door.

She took their least valuable car, one she hoped Haruka wouldn’t miss too badly until it could be picked up. She left the top down to feel the wind in her hair, imagining that Haruka was with her still, then almost laughing at her own foolishness. Dying was making her ridiculously sentimental, she mused, navigating the roads, thankful for lack of traffic, as her driving skills weren’t at their peak.

Finally, she reached her destination. She parked the car and left the keys on the left front tire, a habit she had chastised Haruka for in the past, knowing she would understand the reference. She walked towards the ocean, feeling it calling her, pulling her inwards. The pressure in her chest was increasing with every step, but she kept walking, stumbling through sand to return to her element.

Michiru reached the sea and didn’t hesitate as she walked forward, arms wide, embracing the cruel lover she was meant to have, cold and unrelenting, and thought for the last time of her chosen love, warm and feeling. She smiled as the waves overtook her.

Across town, a letter fell to the ground as Haruka screamed.

**Author's Note:**

> This is me getting around to posting all of my works on this website to have them all in one place besides tumblr. This was based off of a prompt that one person is dying and hides it from their significant other, which I feel fits Michiru terribly well.


End file.
